Drowning Rain
by AriesOrion
Summary: Love is strange. It does not care for secrets, or things untold. It binds you, and tears at you until nothing is the same anymore. Poseidon is so very tired of repeating the same motions over and over again. He's almost given up hope, until he meets a woman with fiery hair and emerald eyes. Fem!Harry/Poseidon, drabble format
1. Chapter 1

It is the eyes he is first drawn to.

They're mesmerizing – a dark and deep emerald green that flash with emotions, similar yet so different than his own.

Their first meeting was purely by chance, it wasn't extraordinary, didn't scream of destiny or fate, but it was special regardless.

Poseidon had fled to Europe after another spat with his godly wife, enraged and annoyed, but most of all so very _tired_.

The Alps, a snow covered and tall mountain range situated south of Germany seemed as good as any place to be, certainly far enough away to ensure his peace of mind.

The King of Atlantis doubted he would ever know why – what kind of whim – drove him to enter that cozy small partly hidden café on top of the mountain.

It looked ordinary, peaceful – nothing like where he usually went, and that was fine.

He did not expect the café to be so very occupied, nor did he expect for him to wish to stay regardless of that fact.

The only free place was a cozy armchair near the fire, and even though the table was already occupied, Poseidon briefly wondered why the chair was still empty.

Such thoughts flew out of his mind, when he first saw a glimpse of the woman sitting casually on the opposite armchair, an old book in one hand as she was calmly sipping something hot out of a white cup with the other.

Poseidon had seen countless women in his long life, slept with many of them, and yet he couldn't describe why this woman was somehow so very different from all of them. His feet took him towards her without his express permission, and when he finally halted, he had already memorized her features.

Her long auburn hair that fell over her shoulder in loose curls, her pale and unblemished skin, her long dark lashes framing sparkling emerald orbs, narrowed in concentration.

She was _beautiful_.

And yet Poseidon did not feel like trying to seduce her. Perhaps it was because he had already broken the oath with Sally only five years ago and did not need another child, or maybe it was because when he slumped down on the comfortable chair without asking, the woman looked up, her emerald orbs meeting his sea-green ones and something inside of him seemed to _settle down_.

She did not speak to him, nor did she smile at him, but Poseidon was suddenly transfixed nonetheless.

Her eyes were gentle, but at the same time fierce – holding a smouldering kind of fire that could warm and destroy someone at the same time. The Sea God could not find anything he could liken them to. Her gaze was not the same shallow one woman usually looked at his attractive form with, nor was it as condescending as any female immortal except Hestia tended to be.

Then she looked down again, and the spell was broken. Nothing had happened, no words had been spoken, she had not even truly acknowledged him, but Poseidon felt like something had changed regardless.

He left two hours later, feeling oddly at peace with everything even when he knew that in reality nothing had changed at all.

It did not surprise him when those emerald eyes occupied his mind at night, nor the burning curiosity lightening his blood seemingly on fire.

Yet, his sleep was peaceful and deep.

* * *

A/N This is gonna consist of drabbles, up to 1k per chapter. It's going to be different from my normal style, but I hope you still like it regardless.

C'ya soon,

AriesOrion


	2. Chapter 2

The armchair he's sitting on is comfortable, and he lets himself sink into it even further. Still, it does not do to pretend and Poseidon definitely knows why he's in this very spot.

He's already grown reluctantly fond of the coffee that's mixed with just a little bit of cinnamon, enough to flow pleasantly over his tongue – and the fact that he even _bothers_ should have been a blaring warning sign.

Today was no different from yesterday or the dozen days before. He's still sitting opposite of the woman, still hasn't even spoken a word to her, and it feels entirely strange to him. She only looks up with mild curiosity in those mesmerizing eyes every time he sits down, and he briefly wonders why he isn't more offended.

He merely returns every day, sitting in that very same spot and watches her silently. He also wonders why she isn't more surprised – more _unnerved_ – about his display of interest.

Poseidon doesn't particularly hide his perusal, nor is he blatantly obvious about it. Often he has wondered whether he should introduce himself – say something at the very least – to this so very special woman that has managed to capture his interest so thoroughly.

Still, the words are stuck in his throat, refusing to come out and destroy the previous blessed silence.

He cannot quite explain himself. This behaviour is so very unlike him, but feels too natural to be anything but and he thinks it might have something to do with the way the few rays of sun set her hair literarily on fire, and highlight the faint few freckles she has, nearly unnoticeable even to his heightened sight.

Nor does he bother to wonder why he remembers every single book she has read over the last two weeks, and every drink she has consumed.

He accepts the increasing rants by his wife about his once again regular absences, and doesn't correct her when she accuses him of once again having a lover. His marriage is a farce anyway and he doesn't know why Amphitrite still screams and shouts at him when it is so absolutely clear that he does not even love her.

He has his lovers and she has her lovers, and it has been that way for so many years that he does not even bother counting them anymore.

The motions repeat themselves over and over again – and Poseidon is so very tired of it all. Tired of the state his family is in, tired of always feeling hollow and empty even as he stands at the very peak of the world.

Is that why this woman's disinterest spurs him further on?

He doesn't quite believe so, but he still isn't sure what else it could be nonetheless. She's beautiful, but so are many others – and even her expressive and unique eyes should not be enough.

But somehow they are – everything is – and Poseidon keeps coming back to this cozy small café with the cinnamon coffee, and too few chairs for the many people.

It's _baffling_.

His sea-green eyes trace the movements of her hand, the way her fingers brush her locks behind her ears, and the smooth expanse of skin that is abruptly revealed to his sight.

It's tantalizing, beckoning him closer – and unconsciously Poseidon traces her rosy lips with his eyes.

He cannot ignore the attraction – the _desire_ – he feels for this woman and even though he knows that it will be nothing but a fling and that with the oath hanging over his head, he should not tempt the Fates, Poseidon fells a decision regardless.

 _'_ _I'll talk to her, tomorrow.',_ he decides and relaxes back into the chair.

Poseidon returns the next day to a still full café, and even though nothing appears to have changed at first glance, everything has.

Because the armchair is empty, and the woman is gone.

* * *

A/N I was pretty shocked about the number of people that favorited and followed this story in such a short amount of time, so thanks guys!

As a small treat, another chapter today. I don't know if I'll update every day, but I should at least not take too long, because it's surprisingly fun to write in such a format.

Enjoy and c'ya soon.

AriesOrion


	3. Chapter 3

War is ugly.

It's blood and death, it's chocking grief and muffled screams and a stream of never ending tears in front of fresh graves.

There was no honour in war. No justice. No higher moral ground because at the end of the day both celebrated when the other side fell and in that moment it did not matter if they got up or stayed down.

Hariel loathed war. She despised the sorrow and hate it brought with her entire being.

Which is why she had left it all behind.

After the war – and it _was_ a war even if the causalities did not number in the thousands – she had grieved together with the rest of her friends, those that were still there – still _alive._

Then came the aftermath. The grief and sorrow turned into anger and blame and accusing – _why did you not end it sooner_?

They had not cared that she was still technically a child, that it wasn't her place to win a war for a whole society. That she had lost people, killed people and wasn't in any state of mind to protect herself from the weight and responsibility placed on her too small shoulders.

They had been grieving.

She was bitterly disappointed, yet more resigned than angry.

So she had left, travelling the world by muggle means and avoiding every trace of the world she had called home for the last six borderline seven years.

Hariel, as the recipient of both the Black and Potter wealth had enough money to spend her lifetime and more leisurely, so for once she had decided to be entirely selfish.

From the Louvre in Paris to the bitter winter of Russia, she had seen so much that it still left her reeling.

And it had been liberating – _glorious_ – and she learned to move on with her life and be _happy_ even if she felt like something was still missing.

She did not care. Hariel never stayed longer than a month, and then left to visit another sight, always moving, never stopping.

More than four years passed like that and she had never felt even a speck of regret for her decision.

Until that intriguing man with sea-green eyes and unruly raven hair casually strolled into her life, sitting opposite of her for days and days, never talking, only watching. She had been confused and unnerved because his presence felt welcoming and soothing and entirely alien.

He was handsome, with strong cheekbones and pale lips and the shadow of a dark beard, but Hariel had never even contemplated on starting even a hint of a relationship.

She was too _wary_ of people, of their intentions and it was difficult for her to trust someone even remotely.

Still when the month as over and she moved on – a small and long since buried part of her – felt _something_.

It wasn't regret – not _truly_ – but it stung regardless of that fact.

Nonetheless Hariel was nothing if not stubborn, so she had refused to look back, no matter how much it felt for the first time like she was leaving something behind, even if it was merely the comfortable silence.

She would forget that man soon enough.

Hariel was sure of it.

* * *

A/N So we finally got a glimpse of fem!Harry and her backstory and why exactly she was in the middle of nowhere. Well, Hariel is in denial and Poseidon... you're probably gonna know in the next chapter ;)

C'ya soon

AriesOrion


	4. Chapter 4

Time passes. First a day, then a week and those slowly turn into years.

Contrary to his expectations – his interest does not fade into obscurity.

Even two years after the first meeting in the quaint little café – he's still keeping an eye out for the shade of emerald stuck in his mind like an unmovable rock.

He does not understand.

It's not the first time he's failed to seduce a woman – no matter how rare such a case may be – and he's never bothered to care about it afterwards, after all there were still a billion others.

But this time he _does_. Every time he sees auburn coloured hair, he halts in his steps and suddenly he begin to associate the colour green not with his own eyes or domain, but solely hers.

They're brighter than the fresh leaves dripping with morning dew, and he's faintly horrified to realize that he's starting to wax poetic nonsense about this woman he's never even talked to.

She could be utterly horrendous in personality for all he knew. He ignored the part of him that whispers of _denial_ -

Every second that passes feels like an eternity to him, and even his wife no longer bothers him when he is frowning in thought.

It's entirely too unnerving.

He wants to hear her voice, see her smile and laugh and he wonders if it will sound as bell like and beautiful as he imagines her voice to be.

Poseidon spends his time searching, and he's more intrigued than annoyed even when he always comes up wanting.

There's no information on her that he can find – not that he actually knows where's he's supposed to look in the first place, and his frustration is slowly building up into a devastating storm.

The number of _accidents_ in his domain has reached an all time high and even sinking a few ships does not calm his temper anymore.

Sleeping with other woman proves to be equally unhelpful, no matter how beautiful – because for some reason he's always imagining those emerald eyes darkening with hazy lust, and those small rosy lips to part in pleasure and call out his name in the throes of ecstasy.

It's maddening.

He does not even know her name. This intrigue will probably fade if he has her wreathing in pleasure beneath him a single time, and even if he's already accepted that he's attracted to her, it does not explain the fact that he's still searching after two years no matter how little time this is for an immortal.

Nor does it excuse the slightest faints of hope when he pushes open the doors to a small café in the middle of Rome, and enters the wooden establishment, his sandaled feet taking him into the building with sure strides.

It was summer, the flowers in full bloom with the sun shining down on them mercilessly – and the breeze of cold air feels relieving to even him.

The constant chatter is easy to blend out, especially when he sees the light of the sun shine upon a particular shade of auburn that now looked like small burning flames, a stark and mesmerizing contrast to the green sparkling eyes narrowed in concentration.

Poseidon halts in sheer disbelief, wanting to curse his luck and the Fates and everything in between, because the object of his every waking dream for the last two years was sitting in the back of the café, nears the tall window, drinking a colourful fruity drink.

His feet change direction, heading towards the empty chair opposite of her, seeming like a silent invitation.

And this time he would not let her escape.

* * *

A/N Another treat! I have the feeling I'm on a roll right now... So this is my chapter for today...

C'ya tomorrow

AriesOrion


	5. Chapter 5

Rome is certainly a beautiful city, Hariel thinks. With its grand cathedrals and wide sweeping alleys and age old amphitheatres. The language is beautiful to listen to and she thanks translation charms nearly every day.

It's another city she's randomly picked in the last few years, and she's almost finished with it. One month is ample time to do anything she has set her mind to – and then she will leave with no regrets.

She ignores the part of her that whispers of dark hair and mischievous sea-green eyes. Hariel is confused, because she has never been someone to form attachments spontaneously, always needing to prod and test and watch until she was sure they would not hurt her.

She told herself that he would be gone from her memory and mind soon enough.

Hariel knows she's wrong.

Still, it does not change reality and the small café in Rome is certainly exactly what she wants. It's small and intimate, quiet enough not to irritate her and local enough to offer native food and drinks.

The sun is a pleasant source of warmth on her skin, and she takes no notice of the constant noise the entrance door emits when opened.

The same nonchalance becomes impossible when she clearly senses footsteps heading her way, the rhythm indescribably familiar to her ears.

She does not look up.

Because there was no way that man could be here, and she hates the fact that her heart just skipped a beat as if to taunt her.

The sound of steps fade and this time she clearly senses the same constantly rolling and changing – incredibly domineering – presence she has felt two years back.

Like last time, he does not ask for permission, merely sitting down on the vacant chair opposite to her.

She looks up, her own slightly widened orbs meeting the sharp sea-green ones – and her traitorous heart merrily skips another beat.

She wants to avert her eyes again and pretend nothing has changed.

Hariel knows it is impossible.

* * *

Poseidon is _pleased_.

Dangerously pleased when he sees her eyes widen in recognition and an underlining sense of disbelief. She _remembers_ him, does so instantly and without prompting, and he can barely contain the smug satisfaction welling up inside of him.

After two years he has finally found that little nymph of a woman again.

''You do not mind if I sit here, right?'' He asks, his voice low and gravely.

It is the first time he has spoken to her, and he still wonders how her voice will sound.

Hariel is conflicted. She should be wary about this stranger that seems to have made it his mission to intrigue her.

The war has ingrained certain habits into her that were hard to break. Caution and constant vigilance are predominant, but at this moment she seems to have forgotten them entirely.

That man was no human, but she doesn't know what else he could be.

''No.'' She answers, tilting her head slightly. ''I do not believe that I do.''

Her voice was soft, and yet firm – sounding strangely exotic with the British lilt colouring every syllable. Poseidon found it strangely more beautiful than the chiming of bells he has imagined her voice to sound like.

''Good.'' Poseidon rumbled soothingly, ''May I ask with whom I'm sharing this table then?''

She hesitates. There was no reason for her to tell him. She has never believed in coincidences and giving this man more information about herself seemed strangely dangerous.

Hariel does not know why she ignores the voice of caution inside her mind.

Perhaps it was because for the last six years, she has only had a comfortable life and yearns for excitement. Or was it because although he feels dangerous it was not to her?

''Hariel.'' She eventually replies, and couldn't suppress the tug of her lips upwards into a small smile at his old-fashioned language.

Poseidon is transfixed by her smile, the way small dimples appear on her cheeks, and her eyes sparkle with humour.

It makes her appear radiant, like the gentle light of the moon upon the lulling waves.

Hariel is intrigued.

Poseidon is utterly entranced.

* * *

A/N My update for today ;) Hope you liked it!

Thank you to those of you who reviewed, followed, or favorited my newest story!

This story will continue through the Percy Jackson books, but I don't know how much of those I'll feature since I have only read the first one, and have only some knowledge about the others.

C'ya soon

AriesOrion


	6. Chapter 6

Poseidon thinks she is lovely.

He cannot remember actually enjoying such a simple conversation so much that even after he's already ordered his sixth drink and the sun slowly goes down, he still feels no need to leave.

Hariel – and he finds the name both curious and arresting if only because it rolls over his tongue smoother than the finest wine – is certainly unique.

It's fascinating to listen to her smooth voice speak of her travels and observe as she becomes more and more lively as the conversation goes on.

Her emerald eyes sparkle brightly, and there's an exited flush on her face as she talks about the Egyptian pyramids she visited only months ago. Poseidon has seen them before, but to him they do not appear so grand when he has seen so much already in his long life. Yet her words paint them in a wholly different light, and suddenly he has the urge to see them again.

She's also a good listener and when he talks about some of the things he has seen, she does not interrupt, nor does she feign interest. It is rare nowadays to find a woman so full of passion for things long forgotten.

Her words are sincere, and spoken with a certain wisdom that comes from experience. Poseidon learns as he listens – and with every moment his opinion of her rises.

She's beautiful – yes. But it goes beyond the physical kind, eclipsing into the realm of souls.

The god can only imagine how bright her soul must be to make a mortal this intriguing.

''How long will you stay in Rome?'' He eventually asks when the opportunity presents itself. Poseidon does not tell her that regardless of her answer, he has no intention of this being their last meeting.

''I… I don't know.'' Hariel admits, and feels somehow lost when she realizes that tomorrow is the end of the month already. The end of her stay in this beautiful city, and yet she hesitates.

Because the man sitting across her is the first person in years to interest her so, and leaving tomorrow seems oddly unfulfilling and entirely too wrong.

''When will you leave, Sei?'' Hariel returns, determinately not looking at the way his lips wrap around the white plain cup.

Nothing would come out of it anyway, and for all the experience she has in war, she's still entirely too innocent in others.

Poseidon halts a little at the way she speaks that name. It's a nickname Hestia has given him years ago, and it's close enough to his own that he feels no sense of guilt when he tells her it is his own.

He is tired of hearing the small jokes about Greek History when he introduces himself, tired of the fact that when they eventually find out, nothing is ever the same anymore.

Right now, he does not wish to be Poseidon, Greek God of the Seas.

''I have all the time in the world.'' He smiles faintly, ''…besides, I haven't had enough of your lovely company.''

She blushes at that, obviously embarrassed, and Poseidon enjoys the way it makes her seem even more radiant.

''I'll… stay for a while.'' Hariel answers, and does not know why. She has always kept to her own rules, never breaking them from her childhood on.

But then she looks up, sees his soft and somehow understanding smile, and it suddenly makes sense in a convoluted sort of way.

Both return the next day.

* * *

A/N I was sick during the last few days, so I couldn't get any updates out... But I'm all better now!

For those of you who favorited, followed or reviewed this story, thank you!

Poseidon is going to be a little different from the one I portray in Princess of the Sea, but they will have their similarities.

C'ya soon

AriesOrion


	7. Chapter 7

Having something resembling a friend once again is a startling experience.

It's strange to wake up and realize that there is a fixture in your day – in your _life_ – that is undeniably present.

For Hariel after the war things fell apart. Expectations dogged her footsteps relentlessly, and her role had already been decided on by the people.

The Chosen One.

Every time she went out, inquisitive stares followed her every move, unable to accept that she wanted to move on with her life, and not be reminded of the war every waking moment.

Her friends were understanding, but even they – loyal as they were – suffered under the constant reminders.

Ron did not want to be reminded of the death of his elder brother, and Hermione longed to forget Malfoy Manor, words carved into skin and the missing presence of her parents.

She still writes them. They were still in contact, but their teenage years were long over, and all were eager and desperate to just _forget_.

Hariel misses them, but it has become a detached sort of pain, thought of every once in a while when a Shakespeare book catches her eye, or a chess board reflects the sunlight on a hot summer day.

Her by now daily meetings with Sei are the most contact she's had with one particular person in several years.

It's pathetic, she knows.

And Hariel _enjoys_ them. Enjoys how he avidly listens to her, eyes bright and mischievously curious, injecting his own interesting experiences and comments, yet never making her feel like less.

Sei – and she does not know why this fake name is utterly irrelevant to her, does not hurt or deter her – somehow seems as detached from society as she is.

They do not talk about something as inane like jobs, politics or the stock market. Instead they talk about the wonders of the world and philosophies of life – and it's already become something to look forward to every single day.

She is lonely and has not even realized the extent of it until she finds herself craving this kind of contact.

It's the same kind of confused torn feeling that has settled itself into her heart, and refuses to leave. It's only made worse by the sea-green eyes boring into her emerald ones – penetrating and seemingly able to see through her with one look.

It's ridiculous she knows. Still she cannot quite help herself.

Sei is an enigma after all, and she has always been too curious for her own good.

Yet nothing happens, but their daily meeting for days that slowly turn into one week then two.

Until one day Sei changes the previous status quo.

* * *

''It's a beautiful day outside.'' He states languidly, face propped on one open palm as he smiles at her softly.

It's a Thursday, two weeks after first meeting in Rome again, and the sun still does seems not tired of basking the city in its unrelenting warmth.

Hariel tilts her head to the right thoughtfully, entirely unaware how adorable Poseidon find this simple motion, before conceding with a simple nod.

It _is_ strikingly beautiful outside.

''So would you allow me the honours of escorting you outside?'' He continues, voice that low smooth velvet Hariel is entirely too enamoured with.

It should be forbidden to have a voice that captivating. Unfortunately for her frazzled nerves it's not.

She hesitates, because what he's asking for is a deviation from their usual routine, and it won't be the only one if she agrees.

The she looks at him – as detached and lonely and searching as she is; and somehow it translates into her answer, even though she has sworn to never linger.

''Yes.'' She replies, firmer than she actually feels. ''Yes, I think that's fine.''

Somehow it feels like more, when he takes her hand – his larger and warmer than hers, entirely too suited to holding her small one – and she follows him.

Still she cannot bring herself to regret, when in that moment everything feels entirely too right.

* * *

A/N Some have asked me for longer chapters, and I just wanted to tell you guys that this will stay as a drabble like story. I have too many open stories already, and if I do long chapters for this story too, I'll never manage to update, so it's actually better for you guys if the chapters will stay this length.

Thank you for your support though.

C'ya soon,

AriesOrion


	8. Chapter 8

The streets were buzzing with people, all seemingly hurrying from one point to the next.

Hariel still feels the lingering warmth from when Sei half-dragged her out of the café, and it's almost disappointing to feel the fresh breeze when only moments before there was still the heat of another's hand.

She knows that she has an independent streak a mile wide, and Hariel has never been one to just _follow_ , regardless of how much it may have seemed like with Dumbledore. But after a childhood of being expected to lead, and win a war, she is perhaps almost _tired_ of doing so.

Sei's grip on her hand was gentle but firm and it felt entirely too much like a burden had been taken from her. Like it was fine to rely on someone else.

Poseidon glances at the woman beside him, an almost wistful smile tilting her lips upward slightly, and resists the urge to take her hand again. He's never been one for holding hands, but he cannot deny the simple pleasure this action causes him.

This stroll has been an entirely spontaneous spur of the moment decision, and he's a little more smug than appropriate considering her reluctance when accepting. But like always when Poseidon deals with this woman, he cannot quite help himself.

''There's a small market close by, we could look around.'' Poseidon offers, more nervous than he'd ever admit. How long has it been since another's opinion of him has mattered as much? He honestly cannot remember.

Hariel flashes him an impish smile, and Poseidon does not even notice how his eyes are soft or how his lips form a fond smile out of their own accord.

''I haven't been there yet.'' Hariel admits, a little sheepish considering she's been in this city for around six weeks now. ''But I've heard about it.''

''Then it would be my pleasure to be your guide.'' Poseidon continues smoothly, surrounding her smaller dainty hand with his in a motion that feels entirely too natural.

He notices the way she startles for a moment, her eyes widen and a delicious rosy heat emerges on her cheeks, but does not call her out on it, nor the way she determinately does not look his way.

It's quite frankly adorable, and it tells him all about her lack of experience with physical pleasure that he wants to know. He's a little surprised by the viciously pleased feeling that follows this revelation, but less than he should have been.

But it's _thrilling_ to know that no man has touched her intimately, no man has enjoyed the way her body would contort in pure rapture, and Poseidon wants, no _needs_ to be the first.

Poseidon leads her through the narrow streets, dodging other people while still managing to appreciate the way her hair once again looks like it's literary on fire. He's also distinctly aware of the lustful looks the beauty at his side draws towards her form the male population, and the god is not surprised when he wants to incinerate every single one of them.

The market is small, partly hidden in a large courtyard between several large houses – and Poseidon does not miss the way Hariel's face lits up in pleasure.

''It's more of a local thing:'' Poseidon murmurs against the shell of her ear, avidly tracking the way her body slightly shudders in response. ''So we will not have to worry about other tourists.''

''That's good.'' Hariel offers weakly, all too aware of the heat rushing in the direction of her face – but she cannot deny the way her body has reacted to the sound of that husky low voice rumbling into her ear.

Poseidon does not suppress the smirk spreading over his face.

Hariel on the other hand, is torn between pressing closer and running far away.

Instead she proceeds to drag him towards the small market, his hand still encasing hers tightly – while rumbling and distinctly amused laughter reaches her ears.

Hariel promptly blushes an even darker shade of red.

* * *

A/N It's starting to heat up a little ;) Starting from now on there will be less time skips and more actual plot, so look forward to it.

Thank you for your awesome reviews, it always motivates me to read through them. Concerning Teddy and if Hariel is the MOD or not will be answered in the story!

C'ya soon

AriesOrion


	9. Chapter 9

It won't go away.

There's heat pooling beneath her cheeks, red and noticeable, and entirely too visible – but it stays, refusing to cool.

The hand holding hers is equally as warm, and Hariel does not resist as he tugs her carefully towards a colourful fruit stand.

The colours clash horribly, but there's something charming about the mismatched wooden stall with the colourful fruit and the elderly woman seemingly half-asleep on her rickety chair.

Hariel feels like a schoolgirl with her first crush, and it's mortifying for her. She has faced trolls and dragons and won a war, and still, she cannot help but feels all nervous and jittery as she's faced with those sea-green eyes directed at her.

''Come on.'' Sei leans down, murmuring into her ear, and Hariel briefly debates whether she should smack him or urge him to breathe down her neck a little longer. ''Italian fruit are one of the best world-wide. Trust me.''

He winks at her cheekily, and it makes her smile. ''So I'm speaking to an expert then?'' She cannot help but tease him lightly, not knowing that the playful glint in her eyes and the slight tilt of her head makes Poseidon want to forget all propriety, all restraint and self-control he's accumulated over the years and simply bend down a little lower and taste those rosy lips.

''Naturally.'' Poseidon confirms solemnly, ''You shall never have to doubt my expert assessment on Italian fruits.''

''Then, my dear guide…'' and the pronoun is resounding in Poseidon's head, as he guides her towards the stall. Refusing to leave his thoughts alone, turning and spinning until it's engraved in his mind. ''…I shall let you choose then, and trust your advice.''

She finishes in the same oddly formal pompous tone, entirely too reminiscent of Draco Malfoy, and she cannot suppress the amusement bursting out of her, and a small laugh slips out, quiet but unrestrained and its music to Poseidon's ears.

Poseidon too cannot hold his serious façade any longer, as he simply grabs two fruit resembling peaches from the stand and places some local coins onto the wooden surface in exchange.

The old lady cracks an eye open, a faint smile on her withered face.

''They are especially delicious this season.'' She whispers hoarsely, ''Your husband has chosen well.''

Hariel knows that she's gaping, but her muscles are stuck this way as another furious wave of heat makes its own beneath her normally pale cheeks.

''Thank you.'' Sei smiles at the old woman, looking faintly amused, but Hariel somehow cannot look him in the eye, the words unbelievably loud in her head.

Hariel does not protest as Sei leads her away, and they only stop walking after a minute of uncomfortable silence as they reach a small well and sit down on the brim.

Sei hands her one of the peaches, and Hariel is thankful that for the moment she does not have to speak.

Curious she bites into the darkish fruit, an appreciative sound slipping past her lips at the sweetness. Hariel does not thinks she's ever eaten a peach that sweet in her whole life.

She does not notice the heated eyes following her every move, and how they darken when she licks her lips quickly.

Poseidon thinks she's a tease, but he enjoys the sight too much to be bothered.

A small drop makes its way down Hariel's index finger, and Poseidon just reacts. Grabbing her hand, the Sea God lifts it towards his face, too ware of the way her head snaps into his direction, fiery hair like a curtain of flames.

However she makes no move to stop him as his mouth briefly wraps around her finger, his tongue darting past his lips to catch the small drop of juice.

Poseidon thinks it tastes especially divine, the faintest tang of innocence nearly making him groan in appreciation. His eyes snap towards her face, as his lips release her finger.

Poseidon sees the budding desire in those emerald orbs.

Hariel feels her heart thunder in her chest, the warmth remaining on her finger and even though everything is going too _fast_ and out of control, she cannot bring herself to pull away.

He is pleased.

She is simply mortified.

* * *

A/N I have during the previous week discovered that the bacteria are planning to dominate our world. Their plan apparently involves making me feel sick every single week and not letting me rest properly.

I know I'm right and no one's gonna tell me otherwise.

Maybe. ;)

Enjoy the lastest chapter! I hope I can get another out during this weekend.

Thank you for those who reviewed, favorited or followed this story. I'm still surprised how many people actually did.

C'ya soon

AriesOrion


	10. Chapter 10

''Sire?''

Poseidon glances at the merman before his throne with a small displeased frown. Predictably the tall built and normally imposing sea creature promptly shut his mouth with an audible sound, wary about angering his Lord even further.

Normally Poseidon would not be as harsh and unforgiving, but the unfortunate merman had interrupted his pleasant daydream about Hariel's delightful reaction to his innocent bit of flirting.

How her face flushed that delightful shade of red, emerald eyes darkening slightly – wary and confused but also with a hint of desire.

It has only been a week since that sunny day at the market and Poseidon knows that things have _changed_. They still meet every single day for lunch at the small café, but their conversations are not as light as before. They're heavier now, mixed with hidden hints and unspoken words and carefully concealed reactions.

Poseidon knows that Hariel is innocent. Not ignorant or naïve, but _inexperienced_. It's strange for him to be so careful when seducing someone, so considerate – but the word seduce leaves a bad taste in his mouth even though he pretends not to know why.

Hariel is intriguing and special, kind and compassionate without being unnecessarily soft and it appeals to the ancient warrior inside of him.

She's somehow different from all the other women he's been with before – and it's a blaring warning sign.

He's getting _attached_.

He's getting _possessive_ , and he's not supposed to.

It's always been flings and carnal pleasure no matter what honeyed words he's whispered into the women's ears.

The mortals lives are fleeting, only the blink of an eye, a second in the grand scheme of things – and it's a foreign concept for him to _care_.

But he enjoys his days now, enjoys the simple conversations they have over a hot or cold beverage, and by now going back to the empty routine he had before seems oddly unbearable.

(It should have alarmed him more, that unwillingness to leave, but he somehow cannot bring himself to. Because she is warm and strong in a brittle way, like a flickering fire against the wind, somehow never bowing down – and he does not wish to lose that small warmth.)

''Return to your post.'' Poseidon suddenly orders, and the merman does not hesitate to obey. Soon enough Poseidon is alone in the throne room, and even the magnificent murals of his victories and deeds can not stir his heart.

It's lonely to stand at the peak of the world.

Lonely and cold and Poseidon despises it.

Poseidon has always been the very epitome of selfishness, taking what he wants.

The Greek God of the Sea – Poseidon – is cold and lonely and tired, but Sei isn't. Sei is warm and content, happy whenever that impish smile is directed at him.

He's always been selfish, so why would he deny himself anything?

He wants Hariel, so Hariel he will take.

It's only to satisfy his urges. Nothing more and nothing less.

(He conveniently ignores the small voice in his head calling him a liar. Love and gods do not mix together. Everything they touch will eventually fall apart and Poseidon is no exception. He's never fallen in love before, and he never will.)

He knows his words are a lie.

But he cannot quite bring himself to admit it.

How much easier would it be, if he truly were Sei he wonders. Still it does not do to dwell on dreams and forget reality.

He cannot allow himself to forget, that at the end of the day he is alone – and Hariel is just one woman in a long line of many others.

He wonders if by repeating it a thousand times, he would be able to believe it.

Somehow he doubts it.

* * *

A/N This small chapter is merely to show the conflict going on in Poseidon's mind. He's pretty torn about what to think, and whether he should allow this fascination to grow.

Just a small treat!

C'ya soon

AriesOrion


	11. Chapter 11

She wakes up to an insistent pecking coming from the direction of her closed window.

There's still sleep in her eyes, and she stumbles out of her bed more than anything else. Hariel knows that magic would make it easier to open the window, but she has long since denied herself that option.

To her magic is both a curse and a blessing. She loves it and she loathes it, and finding a balance between those two extremes is almost impossible. She hasn't touched or used her magic in years and by now it's drowsy, almost asleep instead of the previous insistent buzz under her skin.

The fresh air is almost chilly so early in the morning, but Hariel ignores it in favour of the small brown owl launching itself into the bedroom of the small bungalow she has rented for the last few weeks.

It's Hermione's owl, and Hariel allows herself a small smile. With its frizzy hair, Archimedes resembled his owner a great deal, and even the way the owl is already impatiently waiting for her to relieve him of the letter tied to the small leg is eerily reminiscent of her old friend.

The parchment was folded tightly, and when Hariel sees the slightly looping handwriting, she unconsciously relaxes.

It's familiar and nostalgic in a good way. There are no important news, no hidden messages, just the usual 'how are you's and 'when will we see each other again' lines which have long lost their insistence, but still ring genuine regardless.

It is grounding - this letter. Makes her feel as if everything is still alright even when she has the feeling she's drowning. Hariel is too unfamiliar with love and lust and those feelings – but her attraction to Sei is too _intense_ to ignore.

Sometimes she can still feel the phantom heat from when Poseidon licked away that small droplet, and the slight scrap of teeth still brings shivers down her spine.

She doesn't notice how tense she is until she takes a deep breathe and tries to relax. The fact that she is attracted to him remains however, and Hariel knows that she cannot stay as indecisive as before.

But even though she is a Gryffindor, she cannot quite find the courage to choose either.

* * *

Her decision is practically made without her conscious consent only a week after Archimedes takes her letter back to Britain where she knows her friends have long started to built a family for themselves.

It is an uncommonly cloudy and cold day for the middle of the summer in Rome, and Hariel – a little absent-minded and distracted – hasn't remembered to bring a jacket to the small café.

Then again, Sei hasn't either, and she tries not to be jealous of the way he so effortlessly looks like it's still twenty-something degrees and not the below fifteen she's currently experiencing as they wander through the cobbled streets.

She loves the dress she's wearing – a darker shade with a simple leather belt – but the wind is biting and chilly, and her exposed skin doesn't thank her for her lacking state of dress.

It shouldn't have surprised her.

But when Sei draws her closer, one hand subtly placed on the small of her back, the small space seemingly _burning_ , she's still startled regardless.

It's inconsequential when only a moment later her whole body is pressed flush against a hard male one, Sei's other arm snacking around her other side to cover the space between her shoulders.

Her arms are trapped between them, and unconsciously she fists them into his shirt, instead of pushing him away.

She feels safe, Safe and protected, like in that moment nothing could ever hurt her.

It's an alien feeling, but good in a way that nothing else has ever been.

But a small part of her – the one who was unloved and betrayed, cynical and untrusting – still resists.

Then Sei bows his head slightly, nuzzling his face into the crook of her shoulder, his warm breath tickling her bare skin, and she shifts without noticing, giving him more access to her neck.

She forgets the way they are in public, though it's one of the quieter streets. She forgets everything but the feeling of dry, but warm lips brushing against her neck lightly, the feeling of the trail of liquid fire burning where he touches her exposed skin.

She's unnaturally still, even as his lips reach her lower ear, full of a strange kind of anticipation – until a quiet chuckle breaks her out of her trance.

''Are you a little warmer now, Hariel?''

Sei purrs into her ear, voice low and that husky tone that always sent shivers down her spine.

Hariel cannot quite manage to speak.

But Sei doesn't seem to mind, as his arms tighten around her – and Hariel rests her head against his shoulder.

It's peaceful, and she wishes they could stay this way forever.

Poseidon smiles against her fiery hair, inhaling the subtle hind of flowers and nature clinging to her body – and tries to quell the tender feeling in his heart.

He knows he's failing spectacularly though.

Then she looks up, a shy kind of trust in those emerald orbs, brittle but _there_ , as if has finally made a decision to allow this – whatever it was - to continue, and Poseidon knows he's lost.

He cannot bring himself to mind it though.

* * *

A/N Sorry for the last update, but I was in Paris during the last few weeks on vacation with a friend. I'll try to update soon, especially now that things are finally getting a little more interesting.

C'ya soon

AriesOrion


	12. Chapter 12

He smells like the ocean – like sand, and the fresh but slightly musky air after a sudden rain shower, with a tang of salt mixed in somewhere between – and as she closes her eyes, she can imagine the sand beneath her bare feet and the waves crashing against the shore akin to a soothing lullaby.

Unconsciously her whole body relaxes in Poseidon's hold, and the god knows how precious this tentative trust is.

Hariel – no matter how mature and cheerful she seems, is scarred and brittle, strength a small bonfire instead of the roaring and passionate inferno he knows it can be.

She's hurt and broken, regardless of how mischievous her smiles are, and he can recognize the shadows of loneliness in her eyes as well as those in his own.

In the beginning – no matter how fascinating Hariel was – he would not have cared, had not truly cared beyond the desire to seduce her into his bed. But it's been weeks of daily meeting and conversations, comfortable and genuine.

This trust - it's enough. Enough to quell the last bits of denial lingering in his heart.

He _cares_.

No matter how much he's not supposed to. No matter how much easier it would be not to.

He does and it changes everything.

This is painfully new to him, and it's with wonder in his eyes that he lifts his head slightly to trace her high cheekbones with his lips.

Hariel shudders beneath his touch, too aware of every inch of their bodies pressed flush against each other, his lips so close to hers that their breaths mix.

His left arm moves from her shoulders to the back of her neck, fisting some of her red locks, before tilting her head upwards.

Their eyes meet. Darkened emerald meets darkened sea-green, and the world around them seems to vanish.

Poseidon' eyes flicker to Hariel's slightly parted lips, and it's like an invitation.

But it's Hariel in his arms, not one of his many other conquests.

Still a small taste cannot hurt, and Poseidon presses his lips against the corner of her mouth, close enough to taste the hint of cinnamon lingering on her lips.

Hariel does not know whether she is glad or disappointed when those lips do not claim hers, but even that small kiss is enough to make her desperately want more. This searing and burning – _intense_ – feeling is like a drug, and Hariel feels like she's been branded.

She has never contemplated about falling in love before. Not truly. Because she has never imagined meeting someone able to destroy all her carefully built defences around her heart with such laudable ease.

Sei is passionate and charming, with a hint of danger that attracts her like a moth to a flame. No matter whether it knows that at the end of its path - it will burn to death painfully.

She knows that this man will hurt her. Knows this with a startling certainty. But she cannot bring herself to care when he cradles her so carefully.

He lies as easily as he breathes, and there are so many half-truths mixed into his words that it leaves her reeling.

'I am such a fool.' She thinks to herself, lips twisting into a sad smile. 'Such a fool.'

Because she knows that one does not simply fall in love. Falling is gentle and constant – _predictable_. Loving is akin to drowning – it's painful and stifling, and this feeling becomes even more precious than air.

She's falling in love with a man who will break her heart.

Hariel wants to cry.

She wants to scream her happiness to the sky.

(It's painful.

It's addicting.)

She doesn't know what to think anymore.

* * *

A/N I have to apologize for the late update, but I have to admit I was totally stuck on this chapter. I hope it turned out alright, even if it was a little dark at the end.

Hariel knows that Poseidon's constantly lying to her, knows that he's not a normal human – and the cynical part of her rears it's ugly head. Whether she's right or not… Who knows?

Well, hopefully the next chapter will be out faster.

Happy belated New Year!

C'ya soon

AriesOrion


	13. Chapter 13

She cannot stop fiddling.

Hariel has never particularly cared about her appearance, not like Lavender Brown or the Patil Twins, or the myriad of other woman she's met in the last few years.

She knows it's thanks to the loving care of the Dursleys; her cousin's taunting words, the old worn clothes and the disinterest of the people around her that she's never developed this womanly vanity.

Hermione has always called her beautiful. Not the common kind of symmetrical beauty, but _striking_. Unforgettable with her vivid colours, and air of experience around her. But in the Wizading World she's always been the girl-who-lived first and foremost, a figurehead more than a girl or a woman.

Perhaps that's why she likes Sei so much. He makes her feel horrifyingly alive, makes her care about things she's never even thought about – he looks at her and _sees_ , not the myriad of masks but the fighting – _lonely_ – woman beneath.

Hariel is torn between gut wrenching terror and delighted nervousness, as her eyes flicker to the tall mirror placed on a wall in her temporary bedroom.

It's maddening as she makes sure her hair flows smoothly enough over her shoulders _one more time_ , and Hariel finally admits to herself that she's being utterly ridiculous.

Her mirror in the bungalow – and she cannot bring herself to call it anything resembling home for all the weeks she's been living in this house – is taller than she is, and Hariel risks another peak, observing her own expression, still torn between sheer terror and nervous delight.

Her right hand moves to her face unconsciously, two fingers tracing the corner of her lips where Sei's own had lingered.

Hariel pretends not to see the way she softens noticeably, a small smile tilting her lips upwards. She can still remember his eyes, dark and intense – full of desire – as he steps back, and offers her his arms, escorting her back to her current residence.

The paranoia inside of her has softened numerous meetings ago, and the fact that he now knows where she is living does not ring any alarm bells inside her mind.

(It should, she knows, because he's been lying and pretending, and she doesn't even know his name but Hariel does not care. She's too far gone to back out now, and leaving would break her fragile, still twisted heart apart.)

She remembers the way he smiled at her as he bade her farewell, a mischievous expression on his face as he leaned forward, the subtle hint of his cologne incomparably intoxicating, whispering words against the shell of her ear.

 _''_ _I'll pick you up at noon.''_

Hariel's eyes flicker to the ticking clock on her wall one more time, before she breathes in deeply as a knock resounds through her house and the clock strikes twelve.

It's time for her first date.

* * *

Poseidon has no idea what he is even doing, as he approaches the bungalow his friend? soon-to-be-girlfriend? future lover? rents, running a hand through his unruly hair in what he recognizes as pure nervousness.

A wooden basket is firmly clasped in his left hand, and the Greek God of the Sea absent-mindedly wonders how his 'family' would react if they were to see him right now.

He's always just seduced other woman, his natural charm and a few dinners enough to get them into his bed rather easily, and the pure pleasure of laying with a god soon vanished any lingering doubts those woman might have had.

Poseidon knocks on the reddish painted wooden door, his superior hearing able to hear her slight footsteps walking towards the door, his patience soon enough rewarded by the door opening abruptly, the woman of his every waking dream smiling at him somewhat shyly.

Every smooth compliment he is planning on delivering suddenly seems to vanish from his mind, his mouth opening without his permission.

''Beautiful.'' He breathes almost reverently, his carnal instinct awakening as he sees the blood pooling beneath her cheeks – and the obvious pleasure at the apparent loss of his self-control.

''Thanks, Sei.'' Hariel smiles at him softly, her delight of being able to affect him so powerful it leaves her reeling for a moment. She peeks at the basket in his grasp, the lingering scent of food in the air leaving her with no doubts as to what is within it.

Sei shifts slightly in obvious embarrassment, and Hariel is glad that she's not the only one seemingly drowning while everything around them suddenly changes.

Poseidon extends his right arm in an obvious invitation, and Hariel grabs it without hesitation. ''Shall we go?''

''Where are we going?'' Hariel asks, her fingers intertwining with his in an oddly sensual manner – his calloused hands strong and steady.

''That's a secret. Can't spoil everything within a moment of our first proper date.'' Poseidon grins at her, aware that this was the first time they had communicated the desire to meet, instead of their previous mutual silent agreement of simply coming to that café at the same time every day.

And by everything that was dear to him, he was going to make this count.

He was not going to let her slip through his fingers.

Hariel would be his, and at the end of the day, nothing else mattered.

* * *

A/N Back again! I've actually had this chapter finished nearly two weeks ago before first my computer and then my internet broke down, so since I've finally managed to repair my poor baby, I can finally update this chapter. The next chapter should be up next weekend or so.

Enjoy!

AriesOrion


	14. Chapter 14

The small park is a quaint place, surrounded by towering trees and far enough from any street to be virtually undisturbed.

The sun bears down on them relentlessly, almost if making up for the previous chilly day. Hariel follows Sei to an old oak tree, hand still firmly clasped in his, and heart beating furiously.

The shade is welcome, and Hariel does not protest when Sei spreads a small blanket and pulls her down with him.

It's almost cliché this setting – but the hint of awkwardness clinging to her companion is undeniably precious to her. She's always thought that actions speak louder than any words, and Sei's are more telling than what he does not say.

Hariel is glad that this is unfamiliar territory for both of them, though she suspects that Sei's experiences concerning physical pleasure are far more extensive than her own.

''Is this too cold?'' Poseidon suddenly questions, as he watches Hariel tilt her head towards the canopy of the tree they were currently using as shade.

''No…'' Hariel smiles softly, her emerald eyes glowing with quiet joy, and Poseidon is instantly transfixed. ''Everything is perfect.''

''You forget, my dear.'' Poseidon refutes somewhat faintly, ''that there is one more thing that's missing.''

''Oh?'' Hariel arches one eyebrow playfully, a slight smirk on her face. ''And what would that be?''

In response Poseidon winks at her, before grabbing the still covered wooden basket, his hand reaching within to procure a small bowl containing dozens of bright red plump strawberries.

''Italian fruit.'' Poseidon declares triumphantly, looking undeniably smug as a small laugh slips out of Hariel's mouth – a quiet, but joyful sound that makes him smile tenderly.

Poseidon values those moments when Hariel lets down her guard around him, reacting without restraint – her laughter more melodious than the finest of symphonies.

Her small hand reaches out towards the strawberries with an eager expression; Poseidon raising his hand with a mischievous smile, taking too much pleasure in the irritated pout Hariel gives him.

''I think I'll feed them to you.'' Poseidon chuckles, trying to ignore the rather inappropriate images those words induce in his own mind.

Hariel flushes bright red, torn between faint indignation and a curious amount of _want_. She wonders how his skin tastes, and this line of thought makes her blush – if at all possible – darken even further. Right now there is not a trace of the witch who won a war against the darkest wizard of years remaining, only a wandering woman with an unhealthy attraction to this devilishly handsome man.

Hariel has no chance to protest when Sei picks up a strawberry and places it close to her mouth, making the action seem undeniably sensual with the dark look in his eyes, when she still feels like she's lost on a sinking boat in the middle of an all-encompassing storm.

Perhaps it's shock that makes her comply so readily, or maybe she's finally given up resisting, because she doesn't hesitate when wrapping her lips around the treat, the tips of Sei's fingers hard where the strawberry is soft, and she finds that she cannot get enough of those hungry desperate looks he gives her.

It makes her feel _wanted_. Feel like the world has stopped spinning for just that moment in time.

It's addicting. Makes her feel powerful in ways that even magic could never quiet manage to do.

The fruit seems forbidden in that moment, it's sweet flavor running down her throat, but she could not manage to concentrate on it when instead of retreating, Sei's hand strokes her cheek softly, the action so intimate that she has no choice but to lean into the touch.

Poseidon wishes to remember this sight – this _moment_ – for all eternity, Hariel's eyes faintly glowing with a kind of want that is easily enough distinguished in his own, and for all his impeccable self-control Poseidon finds himself unable to endure any further.

He's a predator and Hariel – beautiful, enchanting nymph that she is – is his prey.

The Sea God leans forwards slowly, giving Hariel enough time to move away, but she cannot do so. Hariel wants this so badly it scares her, yet even this fright is not enough to stop the thrill shooting through her body when his body leans over hers, his face only a few inches away from her own.

The first touch is tentative – a mere brush of lips as Poseidon's figure blocks the view of the canopy of leaves intervening with the blue midday sky.

But it sends something fiery through Hariel's body. A burst of hot molten lava where her blood normally flows soothingly.

Her hand fists his shirt without permission, tugging him closer unconsciously. Poseidon nearly groans when Hariel looks at him with slightly parted lips, and such desire in her eyes. His eyes which were previously alight with warm affection turn dark gradually, his stare suddenly lit with stirring interest and dark promises – and Hariel's hand wanders to the back of his neck, fisting the dark locks resting there.

His focus completely drops to her lips, and Hariel welcomes him as he slants his mouth over hers fiercely. Poseidon's lips fall over hers, all demanding and possessive – his tongue teasing her lips briefly before pushing past them forcefully, his actions raw and full of need, seeking nothing but complete submission.

And Hariel – independent and strong – gives in without hesitation, letting his tongue swirl with hers in an intricate dance developed uncountable years ago.

She's lost in the sensation from this single kiss, her magic stirring and rising from its previous slumber, filling her body and quivering directly under her skin.

The loss of his lips against hers seems nearly painful, no matter whether Hariel needs to breathe or not.

Poseidon chuckles faintly, and Hariel is embarrassed that even this sound seems to affect her so.

His voice is rough and gravely when he finally whispers against her lips.

''The strawberry was very _exquisite_. Shall we try another one? There's still a whole basket left.''

Poseidon suggestive smirk widens as his hand reaches out towards the bowl.

Hariel on the other hand does not believe her face can get any more flushed than it already is.

* * *

A/N An extra long chapter to make up for the small wait! Enjoy and tell me how you found the first kissing scene! Too explicit or not enough? To those of you also following my Princess of the Sea story, the latest chapter is on my broken computer, but it's practically finished, so I'm loathe to write it again!

Sorry for making you wait!

C'ya soon

AriesOrion


	15. Chapter 15

Ba~bump

Ba~bump

He can hear her heart beating.

It's steady in its ferocious pounding, a constant source marvel for him even when in reality he knows it's nothing but an inevitable physical reaction.

Her taste lingers in his mouth, and he thinks it's a tiny piece of heaven.

Poseidon's blood is roaring, his instincts fierce and demanding, and with every single breath he feels his own lust soaring. It's almost comical that he's never felt so much at peace with himself when he's struggling with every cell in his body.

He wants her. He wants Hariel so badly it's almost earth-shattering and his own inaction is proof enough to quell every single doubt about his own affections.

''You look peaceful.'' He murmurs quietly, trying not to disturb the blessed silence. Hariel's head is resting on the side of his chest, and her curled hair is spread partly over his body, smelling faintly of the same fruits they had eaten so sinfully only minutes ago.

The bowl is empty by now, and her lips swollen in a way that makes his pants feel suspiciously tight.

''Hm…'' Hariel mumbles sleepily, eyes closed and body slumped against Sei's almost bonelessly. ''Hush, Sei. Don't talk. I'm really comfy right now.''

She cracks open an eyelid, just in time to see a wicked spark flash through Sei's sparkling eyes.

''I can do that. Not talk that is.'' He smirks darkly, and a startled noise escapes Hariel's mouth, as her view suddenly shifts, her back against the ground, and Sei leaning over her, looking far too smug in her opinion.

''Sei…'' She protests instantly, before any further sound is halted by the dangerously talented mouth skillfully demanding her whole attention.

Yet, unlike an hour ago when she was still drowning in the new sensations, her own reaction is bolder now, her hand pushing down the back of his neck – desperate and aching for that tongue to explore her mouth once again.

Poseidon is spurred further on by her eager response, and his right hand grabs her waist in a nearly bruising grip – his thumb starting to draw small circles on her exposed hip bone, and Hariel cannot hold in the small surprised sound that escapes her lips. Something between a groan and a moan – and Poseidon literally _growls_ into her mouth in response.

They are both lost in a world of pleasure, and Hariel can no longer hold onto the small part of her consciousness trying to hold back her magic – her rationality trickling away like small sand corns swept up by the tide of the sea.

It buzzes and moves under her skin, like a sleeping volcano finally ready to erupt – and a small part of her slumps in relief as the pressure cracks and fades away, magic jumping over her skin like an overeager puppy.

Hariel can feel Sei's surprise through the points where their bodies touch so intimately, their lips separating from their previous dance, and something like sobriety slips into her muddled brain, enough to make her tense beneath the man she is slowly falling in love with.

''Sei?'' She whispers, her own insecurities springing forth as she notices the way he studies her silently, eyes flickering over the small sparks of magic still flickering over her pale skin.

Hariel does not move as Sei raises a hand, fingers brushing against her magic-laden skin in seeming curiosity – his actions careful and deliberate, and a small part of her relaxes.

A larger part of her is still wary.

Hariel knows that Sei is not human, not with his overwhelming presence – unconsciously pressing down on his surroundings with an indomitable will, but she's faced enough rejection to last a life-time and her time traveling has not yet soothed that part of her.

Poseidon is _fascinated_.

Hariel's magic is fierce and wild, burning like a raring inferno while still managing to soothe the darkest of aches – and Poseidon finally realizes how this woman could captivate him so thoroughly when the innermost part of her was so breathtaking.

Her magic is beautiful, and Poseidon barely manages to prevent his own powers from completely surging out and branding his own essence into those tantalizing sparks, marking her as his to anyone that mattered.

Still, it does not do any good to rush and Poseidon will certainly mark her soon enough.

The thought sets another surge of lust through his body – and the Sea God barely keeps himself from acting out his every waking phantasy.

''How interesting.'' Poseidon murmurs against the shell of her ear instead, nipping the skin slightly – more than pleased with the shudder it causes in the body beneath him. ''Keeping secrets, are we?

…Naughty little witch.''

* * *

A/N Well... actually the chapters wasn't supposed to turn out like this, but what do I know? My muse was apparently still stuck on more steamy stuff. On another note I'll change the rating to M (about time I know)... To those of you who posted questions in your reviews... I can only tell you that you'll find out as the story goes on ;)

C'ya soon

AriesOrion


	16. Chapter 16

Hariel is seven and lonely when she begins to realize the earth-shattering changes, the emotion called love could bring.

Mrs. Tylor is a nice elderly woman, with small glasses perched on her thin nose – her hands weathered and face full of wrinkles.

Hariel _adores_ her.

She had been the only teacher to take her side in her scuffles with Dudley, the only one to realize that the homework propelling her cousin's grades forward were _hers_ ; that she isn't an attention seeking-liar determined to spit on her family's kindness.

She remembers the faint feeling in her chest whenever the old woman's hands were gently carding her hair in praise, the way her heart seemingly hammers so loudly she could have sworn the whole neighbourhood heard.

So fragile. So endlessly precious.

(It's her well guarded secret, those moments. Seemingly going on forever; eyes kind and fingers gentle.)

Mrs. Taylor dies three months after her eights birthday, a heart attack in the privacy of her own home.

Hariel remembers the pain in her chest where previously her heart feels like it was soaring. It's foreign this pain, not comparable to the aching whenever aunt Petunia smiles at Dudley, her uncle grinning in heartfelt praise – and they look so _happ_ y, a gaping chasm between them.

(She cries, minutes fading into hours and weeks and the pain does not fade. She swears then, never to experience that same feeling again, her own mind never letting her forget that oath, even when curses are flying and bodies are falling onto the cold wet ground.)

Sei is merely one in a long line of others.

(Lie, a sly voice whispers. Truth fading, because the truth _hurts_ , the lie soothing away the ache like a midsummer rain shower.)

She knows that if she allows herself to fall in love, she will never halt that endless mad descent. But she wants to. Desperately. _Achingly_.

(Yet, for all her Gryffindor courage, she still clings to the edge, fingers bruising, and soul hurting.)

Hariel does not know whether to sob in relief, or scream in frustration, her fears seemingly so irrelevant that they do not even deserve a mere second in the grand scheme of things. Sei's words are accepting for all they're playfully accusing – and something inside of her – tight, and coiling like a snake – loosens.

He is not like them.

He doesn't mind the fact that she's different. That she's hurting, and untrusting for all they've known each other for months already.

Hariel doesn't know his name. But she knows that he hates thunder, loathes the desert and always pours himself an extra bit of cream on his coffee. The way the corners of his eyes crinkle when he laughs – the sound fierce and soothing.

She thinks she knows _him_.

The arms wrapping around her are not unexpected. They're so achingly familiar, safe enough for her to cling to them.

(Her fingers loosen the grip on the edge, every moment more important, more life-changing than the next – and she's _drowning_.)

Hariel can hear his voice, low and soothing, speaking words she does not hear, but can still understand. She's trembling, she knows.

So weak, so very frail when she's in his arms; and Hariel has always been wary about such weakness.

But this is Sei.

Sei who she trusts beyond reason, beyond doubt – and it's exhilarating. This feeling of having no worries, no responsibilities; his shoulders strong enough, willing enough to carry hers as well.

(She's _soaring_.)

''Hariel.'' Sei's voice finally manages to break her state of mind – and Hariel is almost giddy at the worry she hears.

''Thank you.'' Hariel whispers, for what she doesn't know, can't put into words, but she's hoping he understands anyway. ''Thank you, Sei.''

Sei doesn't answer. He doesn't have to. His actions have always spoken louder than his words, and the arms around her haven't loosened in the slightest.

The mouth sliding against hers is welcome. A kiss not for pleasure, but reassurance.

This time, Hariel doesn't hesitate. Doesn't fight. It's too late for regrets, too late to pull back – and Hariel submits to the man binding her so tightly against himself.

It's gentle, this kiss. As light as a butterfly's wing – with a meaning heavier than mountains. Hariel revels in in, drowns in it – and falls in it.

(Her hands are empty, yet so very full. The chasm wide and endless – her fingers stretching towards the edge with no way back.)

Sei deepens the kiss – tongue striking against hers gently; and she can only moan into his mouth, body shivering. He tastes like salt, or maybe it's the tears running down her cheeks – but she is too happy, too relieved and too distracted to care.

(Hariel is _falling_.)

* * *

A/N That took quite some time, I apologize. Apart from a deciding lack of ideas – right now I'm very busy with my college applications, choosing the right one while still doing my voluntary work (40 hours per week).

I have pretty much planned out the next arc of this story, which will start in about two chapters, so look forward to some excitement finally.

C'ya soon,

AriesOrion


	17. Chapter 17

It's baffling – this trust. No one has ever trusted Poseidon so wholly – implicitly enough to show such weakness while taking comfort in his presence.

Gods were not humans. They were fundamentally different – so very unused to anything having power over them. They were arrogant, and impossibly cruel – humans not meaning much to them. Even their children - for all they were born from them – were nothing more than a footnote in their long lives.

Their shells looking so very human; harmless and ordinary that others simply forgot that their species differed the same way humans and ants do.

But for the first time in his immortal existence – Poseidon wanted to be worthy of the feeling he could see budding in Hariel's tear stained eyes, love blooming as brilliantly as the stars in the night sky.

This feeling of wanting the other to be happy, this gentle warmth so different from his previous obsessive and cruel desires – was this the emotion mortals called love?

It was dangerous this emotion – because Poseidon realizes that his hands so used to sowing destruction turn gentle whenever directed at the woman in his arms; and the god knows he would abandon everything he is with just one word out of her mouth.

He cares not.

She deserves everything he can give her, and if he can only stay beside her – he will be happy.

(A ridiculous notion. He is a god – and she nothing but a small puny human for all the magic she might possess – and yet Poseidon is more than willing to kneel before her and beg.)

Her name is like a prayer, her mouth against his like an immortal drug – and Poseidon is hopelessly addicted.

''Stay with me.'' Poseidon breathes against her lips reverently, desperation fueling his words impulsively, but no less right for it. ''Let me travel with you – show you the world. And I promise I will never leave you.''

His words are genuine, and Hariel can hear that. Perhaps that is why she never even considers refusing.

''Yes.'' She agrees, and the word sounds like so much more – and yet Hariel cannot bring herself to care.

Poseidon trails kisses over her face, his lips soothing away the crystalline tears – and even though her eyes are red-rimmed, her face tear stained and hair in disarray – he doesn't think she's ever looked lovelier.

''I love you.'' He whispers, a desperate note of pleading entering his voice, feeling torn and guilty at hiding his true nature, his hands that are so very red – coated in blood and the most wicked of sins.

It's another novel sensation.

Hariel think back to those days in Germany, that silent feeling of companionship, their many meetings in Italy; heated kisses shared under the sun, and another silent tear trails down her face.

''I love you.'' Hariel traces his cheekbones with her fingertips, her lips finding his in a chaste shy kiss.

Poseidon smiles – heart light and soaring – and something inside of him shifts – reality tilting just the slightest bit – and he can see the possibility for a future.

And Poseidon would make sure that it came to pass.

No matter what.

(Because she's like a forbidden fruit, impossible to resist – and he's just a poor being caught in her thrall.)

Hariel is everything he wants – and he's too selfish to give her up, no matter how sinful this union may be.

She is _his_.

* * *

They're still touching – hands entwined together tightly – as Sei transports them to her bungalow, the sun having already left its previous high point, slowly setting – it's orange glow tinting the world in another colour.

Hariel is more than curious about Sei's apparent powers, and she realizes that now that he knows what she is, he's given up the pretension of being normal.

It's not exactly surprising, but it leaves her more than aware of how little she knows about him. But she's too content in this moment to care, her heart on cloud nine as she drags Sei into her temporary house, only belatedly remembering that this is the first time he's in her home.

A blush spreads over Hariel's face for some inane reason – and she's torn between feeling pleased and frustrated that this provokes another drugging kiss, his hand on her hip hot when he practically devours her.

It's a little unfair how skilled he is, and Hariel suddenly realizes that contrary to expectation she's a very jealous woman. She loathes the thought of another having claim on him with a frightening passion, even if it was merely in the past and the thought makes her initiate another kiss, mouth involuntarily releasing an embarrassing novel sound when Sei growls into her mouth – low and pleased.

His fingers are skimming the skin beneath the rim of her shirt, and a shiver travels down her spine – the sensation is something new and Hariel has always been bold and brave, even if those traits are sometimes buried beneath others.

She doesn't stop his hands, instead Hariel presses closer – an encouraging moan leaving her mouth as her hands fist his shirt to pull him closer.

Poseidon needs no more encouragement, as he pushes her against the wall in the entrance hall, his right hand vanishing under her loose shirt to skim upwards, his thumb rubbing circles on her skin as his mouth leaves Hariel's swollen lips to place hot open-mouthed kisses on her throat.

A strangled sound escapes Hariel's lips as Sei's hand finally finishes its exploration of her stomach and reaches her bra-covered breasts, and Sei doesn't hesitate to rub maddening circles over the fabric.

An amused chuckle escaped those talented lips, as she arches against him – confused and _wanting_. Hariel has never felt like this before, and the teeth scraping against the hollow of her throat are not helping, her legs feeling too weak to hold her up any longer.

Poseidon wedges his leg between hers, thig rubbing against her and this draws out another delightful moan from the woman of his every waking desire.

How long has he dreamed of this? Of having her willing to be his and responding so beautifully to his every action?

A swishing sound – wings beating against air – makes him avert his eyes from the feast before them; an owl flattering through the open kitchen window frantically, feathers ruffled and obviously exhausted – a white envelope clutched in one claw.

Hariel – dazed as she is – notices the owl only moments later; and the haze vanishes from her mind so abruptly it leaves her oddly disoriented for a moment.

Dread pools in her stomach – heavy and painful – as she observes the innocent white package- and for some reason she suspects that she will not like what she finds.

(She has always had the worst of luck, happiness followed by disaster – and Hariel is so very tired of it all.)

(Poseidon on the other hand is one breath away from sheer and utter _fury_.)

* * *

A/N Muhahaha! A very long chapter to make up for the longer break before the last chapter…. And some steamy stuff! And poor Poseidon gets interrupted by an owl!

Well, the next chapter will obviously be the start of the new arc, so stay tuned and let your imagination run wild ;)

C'ya soon

AriesOrion


	18. Chapter 18

Poseidon feels _torn_.

There's anger – hot, and _consuming_ – at being denied; at Hariel's attention being drawn away from him when he should be the only one in her eyes.

It's illogical – this fury – but he still cannot keep himself from glaring at the exhausted animal; the owl shivering from having such murderous intent aimed at him in pure unadulterated terror. Still Poseidon mercifully refrains from executing the animal for his untimely interruption.

That this menace is also Athena's symbol only adds insult to the whole matter.

Because Hariel needs him; her eyes unsettled and wary as she looks at the envelope, even though he does not know why.

It has been quite a while since Poseidon has last interacted with someone descended from Hecate's blessed – but he's still aware of their preferred communication method.

''Do you want me to get it?'' He offers quietly, his arms having returned to embracing her carefully, his current actions completely opposite to his previously less than innocent ones.

He'd _incinerate_ the one who made her beautiful smile vanish from her face – and Poseidon is reasonably sure that Hecate will not mind too much if he were to destroy the Wizarding Society in his wrath.

Probably.

''No.'' Hariel denies, smiling at him a little weakly and the god is less than convinced. ''It's just Hermione's owl; I merely had a bad feeling.''

Poseidon will not ignore her instincts, having been a warrior long enough himself to recognize their importance.

Hariel turns away from Sei somewhat reluctantly, already missing his steady presence – his warm skin practically blistering against hers – as she heads towards the table where Hermione's owl is trembling weakly.

Her hands are calm as they finger the envelope, insecurities and her fear – _whatifshehastoleave_? – carefully hidden beneath her mask. The paper does not feel any different – does not reek of the misfortune it brings – and it makes her heart beat faster in an uneasy staccato.

Her friends handwriting is rushed, the normally neat tiny characters wide and hurried – and the corner of Hariel's mouth drop even if she has already suspected the bag news.

 _Hariel,_

 _this news has just gotten to us today, and Ron immediately suggested we write you. We know that you do not wish to associate yourself with the Wizarding World anymore._

 _We understand._

 _But Kingsley died a week ago, and Alexander Flint – Marcus Flint's uncle – became the newest Minister of Magic. He immediately tried to seize the Black Fortune claiming that you do not have a sufficient blood tie, and obviously do not care for such a prestigious House since you have left this world behind._

 _The Black name still carries weight it seems and unfortunately many purebloods agree with him._

 _They will try to force you to come back; we both know this is just a facade. So please just ignore any news you may receive, and don't return._

 _We are not in any danger, so don't worry._

 _Love,_

 _Always your friend_

 _Hermione Weasley_

Hariel can feel her throat constricting, tight and painful – as she closes her eyes; her heart heavy as she reads the words – the concern pouring out of them overwhelming. She has always felt guilty about seemingly abandoning her friends, never visiting, but their friendship is one forged in adversity and Hariel should have known better than to doubt them at all.

''You have good friends…'' Sei's voice behind her is gentle, and Hariel does not bother chastising him for reading her letter – instead she leans against him; his arm around her waist most welcome.

''Yes.'' She agrees quietly, smile pained, but ultimately fond. ''I do have the very best of friends.''

(She remembers jealous, but dependable Ron; Hermione with her unquenchable thirst for knowledge and quiet loyalty; they're not her only friends… but they're her most precious ones, their bond forged though life and death.

Undeniably precious.)

Poseidon feels her reluctance, her hesitation and he would not have it. There was no reason for her to fear anything with him by her side.

(She is a goddess among woman, the one who had stolen his heart – and Poseidon has already decided to read her every wish from her mesmerizing lips. Destroying the Wizarding World is nothing but a minor matter.)

''What do you wish to do?'' He asks instead, lips pressing a dry reassuring kiss against her temple.

''I don't know…'' Hariel confesses, so very _torn_. Returning will not make it any less difficult, it will tear apart this beautiful reality she has built here together with Sei, but she also cannot abandon her friends to a hostile ministry.

She just _can't._

It goes against everything she _is_ , everything she stands for – and Hariel knows what she will ultimately choose without thinking about it a mere moment longer.

''I…'' There's something heartbreakingly hesitant in her voice, and Poseidon would not have it.

''We shall go together.'' He decides, ignoring her wide tear-filled eyes, the choked relief brightening her beautiful eyes in order to catch her lips in a brief chaste kiss. ''I will always stay with you, and in return you will be _mine_. Mine and mine alone.''

''Yours.'' She agrees easily, the word so very eager to spill past her lips when Sei is everything she's ever _needed_.

''I will be yours, Sei.''

Hariel says, and seals her fate – his lips claiming hers possessively, and she can't help but melt against him when in that moment – everything feels entirely right.

(She's drowning; lungs screaming for air – and yet beyond the heavy weight pressing down her body, she's _soaring_.)

* * *

A/N Next chapter done! The story will start picking up now...

There were some questions regarding Hariel's status as the Master/Mistress of Death!

Be patient... that part will still take some time to unravel ;)

C'ya soon,

AriesOrion


	19. Chapter 19

Relationships are a little like glass, Hariel sometimes thinks when she sees people smile and laugh at each other only for their eyes to flash angrily moments after.

So brittle that a gentle gust of wind can break them into a thousand irreparable pieces; a fight or misunderstanding destroying a companionship lasting even decades. But she also knows of relationships like bulletproof glass, easily withstanding the passage of time, not marred by anything but the most violent of destruction.

Hariel believes her own connections are like little glass figurines, every trial carved into the hot molten glass irreversibly – every scratch and disfigurement undeniably precious; as the glass melts and strengthens with every passing second.

She has never cared for absolutes. Relationships are so precious because one cannot take them for granted, every person – every relationship – deserving the greatest of care.

That's why she's feeling so very guilty as she stares at the small house a few miles away from the Burrow, the stones a lighter grey contrasting sharply with the ivory trying to climb up the wall fruitlessly.

It was Hariel's wedding present, a location and first major down payment for the house, being aware that her friends would accept no more.

Still, it feels a little like she's abandoned them as she stares at the new porch, the colour of the door clearly differing from before. Her own pain feels like an insignificant reason to turn her back on her most precious of relationships.

She's feeling very much like a coward at the moment.

Hariel decides she very much doesn't like the feeling.

A warm hand envelopes her faintly trembling one soothingly, and then Sei is pulling her against him – a blanket of security in the whirlwind that is her life.

''I don't know what happened…'' Sei murmurs against her ear, grip tight and unbreakable. He has no intention at all of allowing Hariel to face anything alone, and he regrets knowing so little about Hecate's little pet project that he does not even know why Hariel reacts so strongly. Hariel has fought, has killed and struggled for her life – he can see that, can feel it. But it does not answer the questions floating in his mind. Poseidon finds that he does not much like the feeling of being unaware.

His lips brush against Hariel's ear and the contact eases his buzzing mind instantly. ''… but I know that your friends must want to see you, that much is obvious. So no backing out now.''

The pout he receives for his encouraging admonishment is simply adorable, and Poseidon places a chaste short kiss on those tempting lips.

He doesn't let it distract him though – and a moment later he's pretty much led her in front of the door – Hariel only eying him with fond exasperation before reaching out towards the brass knocker with newfound determination – the sound of it moving against the door echoing loudly in the previous silence.

Hariel can hear the footsteps nearing their direction, the door opening with only the faintest of sounds, light spilling outside, framing the figure standing still in the opened doorway.

Ron has aged well, Hariel thinks with fondness, eying the familiar shade of red present on the man's head, a hint of stubble visible where before there had been nothing but smooth flesh.

Her friend was no longer the boy she remembers, but the man she sees - and it's nostalgic in an entirely strange way.

Hariel can see him literally freeze, brown eyes wide and at first uncomprehending as his eyes meet hers - before the widest grin she had ever seen him wear breaks across his face, and only a moment later, his arms are around her, and she's enveloped in a tight hug.

'' _Hariel._ ''

The one softly whispered word contains so much relief that it leaves her reeling.

''Hermione.'' Ron calls out, louder than before - and Hariel tenses minutely as she hears another pair of footsteps approach. ''Hermione, come quickly.''

''What's wrong, Ron? Who's the... _Oh, Merlin._ '' Hermione - still bushy haired, and self-assured, steps into the hallway - and Hariel eyes her sheepishly.

To her terror, Hermione as good as tears up, and when she joins their little group hug, her voice has a chocked quality to it that she tries to ignore.

''Oh, Hariel. It's so good to see you. We have so much to tell you... you won't believe everything that's happened over here...''

Hariel laughs quietly at how familiar this rush of words was - but before words could leave her mouth, Ron had already looked behind her with no small amount of confusion, and Hariel has belatedly realized that she's actually nearly forgotten Sei for a moment when normally she feels him so acutely it is life-altering.

''Pleasure to meet you.'' Sei steps forward smoothly, all charm and unshackle confidence, and Hariel wants to kiss him - _badly_. When Sei continues, his voice is practically a purr.

''Hariel has told me _so much_ about you.''

Then Sei smiles - and Hariel once again is utterly and irrevocably lost.

* * *

A/N Next chapter! Well, we'll finally be entering the Wizarding World, I wonder what chaos Poseidon will manage to cause...

On another note, I have successfully completed moving into my own apartment - and have nearly unpacked 90% of my stuff.

So until I start university, I'll have some time - though I'll finish the next chapter of Princess of the Sea first.

Hope you enjoyed this chapter!

C'ya soon,

AriesOrion


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